An Average Dungeon
by Death overlord Z
Summary: Take a peek inside the final minutes of one of the dragonborn's many, many foes. Just another dungeon for the books!


"excellent…"

the powerful necromancer chuckled darkly as his servants rushed around, obeying his every whim. His blue robe glinted in the light from the torches, his faithful broadsword at his side.

"Drukar! Get me food!" he called. The withered draugr servant hastened to obey, with a quick "Yes, master Ernuk."

"This is the life." Ernuk said, leaning back in the stone throne. "hundreds of draugr servants, a chest full of treasure, and no end to this life of luxury in sight."

"Milord!" said a draugr who had just appeared at the end of the hall.

"Come closer, my eyesight isn't all that good." Said Ernuk, leaning forwards.

The draugr hastened forwards, nearly tripping over its own withered legs. "Milord, we have an intruder?"

"Eh?" Ernuk said. "That's all? Dispatch the usuals. We'll defeat them quickly." He chuckled. "probably just some imperial squad."

"No, milord." Said the draugr, shaking its head. "It's not a squad. It… it's a single person."

"What? Just one person?" Ernuk said in disbelief.

"Yes, milord. A Breton, to be precise." The draugr said quietly.

Ernuk laughed loud and hard. "ONE wussy-ass Breton? This is going to be easy as pie."

"Um…" the draugr looked at its feet. "he's halfway through the barrow, milord."

"WHAT?" Ernuk roared. "You idiots can stop entire squads of imperials, but you can't stop one lousy Breton?"

"Sire, you have no idea of his power!" the draugr said. "He strides through our most accomplished wights, felling them with lightning spells and strikes from his horrible hammer! The weaker ones, even the moderately weak, are killed in one hit!"

"Impossible!" Ernuk cried, fear beginning to well in his chest. He pushed it down, and shook his head. "Get the deathlords on it! NOW! I won't be defeated by one man!"

"Sir… he's not just a Breton…" the draugr added. "He's mortal, but his soul… he screams antient words, in dragon tongue, and our mightiest warriors are instantly encased in ice, allowing him to pick them off easily!"

Ernuk paled. "Dear god… it's the dragonborn…" he whispered. "Where is he in the tunnels now?"

"here."

The low voice came from behind the draugr. The withered servant went hurtling through the air as a lightning spell struck him with a KZZSH! The undead hit the stone wall behind Ernuk's throne, and fell to the floor, unmoving.

Up the stairs and through the giant door came one of the strangest fellows Ernuk had seen in his life.

It was indeed a Breton; but built like an orc. His cheeks had mystical, blood runes on them in spiky shapes, upside-down spiraling triangles below his grim eyes.

It was the suit the Breton wore, though, which was incredible. It's base was golden moonstone, but it was adorned with translucent green blades, notched and elegant, yet strangely vicious. The helm looked more like a crown then a helmet; most of the Breton's face was exposed, but the entire rest of his head was encased in a moonstone head-cover, a huge glass blade in the dead center of it.

Lightning crackled in the Breton's hands, and even as Ernuk watched, the Breton clenched his fists, then opened them. Twin bolts of lightning shot out, and hit the two draugr on either side of ernuk, not two feet from him, sending them hurtling into the hard wall.

Ernuk could only watch as the Breton took out his entire staff in less then 10 seconds.

Then the incredible warrior's head turned to Ernuk, and those eyes locked onto his. The Breton straightened up, and slowly began to walk towards the necromancer, still sitting. Desperately, Ernuk fired fire, frost and lightning blasts, but they just bounced off him. He didn't even appear to feel them as he said out loud, in that low voice. "What will be your fate, hmm?" he growled. "Perhaps burning alive? Being destroyed by a summoned ancient warrior? Being shredded by a Dremora Markynaz? Or will I simply smash your head with this?"

The warrior reached one arm back over his shoulder, and with a "click" pulled out a horrible-looking warhammer. Made out of the same material as his armor, the thing was finely crafted, yet looked capable of smashing boulders, killing giants, if not dragons.

"Hmm… let's do it a personal favorite way." Said the Dragonborn. Then he inhaled, taking a deep breath.

"IIZ… SLEN-NUS!"

a immense white-blue blast erupted from the dragonborn's mouth, and hit Ernuk head-on. Ernuk closed his eyes, but when he felt no pain, opened them. The Dragonborn was standing there, smirking. Ernuk tried to move, to flee, but he couldn't move. At all. Then he realized he felt rather chilly.

He was frozen solid.

"It'll only last for a couple minutes, and with one good hit you'll be freed, but one hit's all I need." Said the Dragonborn, advancing, his beautiful hammer held to one side.

Ernuk tried to scream, tried to run, but it was no use: the ice encasing him must have been 2 inches thick.

"Any last words?" the dragonborn said, smiling evilly. "Oh right- you can't speak. Let's cut to the good part, then."

Then the Breton swung his hammer over his head with a mighty roar, and everything Ernuk saw from then on was blackness.

Xxxxxxxx

The Breton looked at the frozen corpse, whose head had been smashed in, leaving a bloody pulp where it had been.

Uncerimoniously, the Dragonborn rifled through the dead man's pockets.

"hmm…172 gold, apprentice robes of conjuration and a silver emerald ring. Decent haul, for a boss loot." He said, standing up. Then he walked over to a nearby door, and kicked it open, Sparta-style.

In the small room beyond, there was a fancy-looking treasure chest, and a hole in the wall to the outside. The Dragonborn opened the chest and plucked out the contents. He considered a ebony greatsword (would sell for a good price), but dismissed it.

"A flawless amethyst, 347 gold… ooo, hey! Thunderbolt! Score!" The Breton held up a brown spell tome adorned with a flaming hand. He kissed it, then shoved it into his rucksack.

The Breton stood up, and picked out his trusty map. He used his incredible destruction power to create an incredibly small flame spell, and charred out one of the hundreds of barrows, keeps, and caves.

"Another one bites the dust." He said happily as he strode on to the next stop of his journey, wherever that may be.


End file.
